By Your Side
by AliceRulesMyWorld
Summary: Sequel to There For You. Sebastian had warned Clary about his brother and he hadn't been wrong. Clary will have to learn how to be herself all over again while coming to grips with what's been done to her. TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR RAPE, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, PTSD
1. Chapter 1

The day that would reshape Clary's world had started off really, really well. She distinctly remembered that. The sun had been shining, she and Jace had been laughing, everything had been great. For twenty-three hours of the worst day of her life, nothing had gone even a little bit wrong. She'd woken up with Jace; they'd cooked breakfast together. Isabelle had called, they had had twenty minutes of girl talk. She and Jace had marathoned movie franchises. The Bourne Identity, Mission Impossible, Men in Black.

At 10:38 Jace ran over to his house to grab clothes for the morning.

At 10:39 his parents said they needed to talk to him

At 10:44 Clary decided to take trash out.

At 10:45 she came face to face with Valnetine.

At 10:47 pm on October 17th, Sebastian's brother shattered Clary's whole world.

At 11:10 Jace saw a tall man with white hair run away from Clary's house.

And at 11:14 Jace found her sobbing in the shower.

It happened like this.

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"Are you sure your parents don't want you to come home tonight, babe?" Clary asked Jace from her position on the couch, leant into his chest. Neither were really paying attention to the movie at this point, long since abandoning it in favor of easy conversation.

"I have quite a bit of freedom, Ris." He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "If they mind, though," he said of Robert and Maryse, "they'll tell me. I _do_ , however have to go grab some clothes to wear in the morning." He kissed her shoulder sliding out from behind her. Instantly she missed his warmth. He paused. "What was Valentine in jail for?" He asked. His voice was absent, but she knew that was intentional—he didn't want to seem freaked out.

"He…likes his girls the wrong side of legal. And he doesn't like the word no." She chose her words delicately and deliberately. Knowing how much this knowledge would freak Jace out, she tried to avoid his charge, but Jace wasn't having it.

"You mean sexual assault." His jaw jumped and his tone was incredibly tight. "Maybe you should come with me." He said, now thoroughly freaked out. Jace honestly wasn't sure he could handle Clary getting hurt, especially like that. She was the best thing in his life and the idea that someone could ever seek to take revenge on Clary, to hurt Clary, was unfathomable and unacceptable.

"It's a stone's throw away, Jace." She smiled at him, "I'll be fine."

He looked at her, unwilling to agree. "Go." She insisted.

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "I'll be _right back_." His eyes softened as he kissed her head.

"Hurry it up!" She teasingly called at his back, earning a 'yeah, yeah' from Jace.

She sighed as the door closed shut behind him. She was far more nervous than she was letting on. Sebastian had seemed truly frightened of what Valentine might do and if Sebastian thought something was to be feared, he was almost always right.

Who wouldn't be freaked out by the knowledge that a criminal was out for their blood to get unneeded vengeance in some twisted plot to regain Sebastian's brotherly love?

Worse still Clary hadn't just known what he was in prison for. She'd known the girl, too. She, Maia and Sebastian had all been friends. After the trial, though, the Roberts family moved. If anyone else had connected the events they didn't mention it and neither had Seb or Clary. In any right, it was unlikely anyone had fingered Maia as the victim in Valentine's case as the shield laws had, for once ever, done their job. Figuring Jace should be back soon, Clary decided to pick up their two-day mess so that when Jace returned they could just go to bed. She pushed her hair back out of her face, grabbing soda cans and tossing them into the garbage bag she held. Upon filling two she decided to take them to the trash and from there call it a night. The trashes were literally just outside the door. She could open the door, take one step open the dumpster lid and drop the bags. That was a maximum of ten seconds, no more than two steps from the safety of her house.

She turned on her porch light. It was such a small thing, of course, and didn't matter over much, but for some reason having a light made her feel more comfortable. She opened the front door and looked left, right, and ahead before darting out. She tossed the bags and closed the dumpster lids. Having met with success, Clary spun back towards the door and literally bumped chests with the person she was afraid was coming to find her. Valentine.

Clary was normally one to stand her ground but she instantly stepped backwards from him, unthinkingly trapping herself against the dumpsters.

Her mind raced but she remained frozen. _Yell for Jace,_ She told her unresponsive body, trying to force her mouth to move, her vocal chords to strain, to make some kind of noise. Nothing came. She took a step sideways, contemplating whether she could dart past him or not. Her thoughts were invaded by a _shnick_ and her breath caught. He had a knife. He caught her off guard by quickly walking up to her and clapping a hand over her mouth, placing the knife on her neck. "I expect silence." He informed her calmly. "Is that understood?"

She nodded.

He backhanded her. It was disorienting but not enough to knock her off her feet. "You broke my little brother's heart, you know." He hit her again, hard enough now she fell to the ground. He got down, trapping her there. He placed his hand over her mouth again, straddled her body so she could not move and then grinned at her, flashing the knife.

 _He's an honest to god psychopath,_ Clary thought, _and he's going to kill me._

Wasn't Jace supposed to be back soon? She thought desperately.

"Maybe a little reminder for you?" He spoke as if to himself, tracing her stomach with the knife. "Right here?" He cut her stomach a little, just enough to see a bit of blood. "Haven't the time. Only gave myself fifteen minutes. _Damn shame_." Frighteningly, he sounded as if he genuinely thought so.

She closed her eyes against the feeling of the knife pressing against her neck forcing herself to keep them shut. She did not want to see.

In one second there was only the darkness, in the next it was accompanied by pain. She knew everything hurt worse—the blows, the bites, the…well everything—because she couldn't see, but if she opened her eyes, if she looked at him it would be one more thing she'd never forget. She could at least not watch this happen. Then he took that from her, too, tilting the knife so that if he dragged it, it would mean slitting her throat. And he demanded she open her eyes.

It nearly killed her to do so, but she knew he would have killed her had she not. Giving up her last form of refuge she looked at him, refusing the let the tears fall.

Then it was over, and he took off at a jog.

Clary dragged herself up, trudged up her steps, dropped her clothes to be burnt and got in the shower, tears overflowing at last.

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A flash of white hair passing the window caught Jace's eye and he turned his head in time to see a man running. "Clary!"

He left his parents mid-conversation, still in the middle of their awkward, unnecessary 'be safe' spiel. He stood at the door for a half a second—go after the man or go to Clary—before taking off, running hell-for-leather to Clary's house, through the door and up the stairs to where her sobs could be heard.

"Rissa?" He knocked, "I'm coming in, Rissa, alright?"

No response. He opened the door. "It's me, Rissa." Jace said terrified of what he was surely about to see, "It's Jace, Ris, alright it's just me." He opened the shower curtain.

"I can't get the feeling of him off me." She whimpered. "I'm never going to get it off." Discarded on the shower floor was a washcloth, a loofah and a sponge and Jace reached out to take the piece of steel wool she had been holding onto. Her skin looked as if she'd had a chance to try it. She was bright red, and actually bleeding from some places. Without warning she collapsed, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I'll never be clean again, Jace." She lamented. He reached in again, this time to shut off the water and hissed when the water made contact with his skin. It was so hot it hurt and probably contributed to her temporary skin-tone. The water was definitely well over a hundred degrees.

Carefully, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel, grabbing another off the rack for her hair. "Come with me, baby. Let's get you dressed, okay?" His words were gentle and he was certain if she were herself right now she'd be angry at his tone—one that suggested that he was talking to a feral dog, hoping to coax it without agitating it into fight or flight mode.

Which was not unlike what he was doing.

He handed her the towel for her hair and she put her hair up with it allowing it to dry. "Do you want me to leave while you get dressed?" He asked in a careful tone.

"No!" She despaired. "Don't leave. You're keeping me safe. Please don't leave."

"Okay," he promised, "I won't leave."

"Okay," she accepted his word dressing swiftly in sweats and tank-top, plus his sweatshirt. She sat on the bed again, stony-faced before sobbing for the second time that night.

"Can I put my arms around you, Rissa?" He opened his mouth to ask but she had already fallen into his chest. The question hung unasked instead, his arms going around her at her own demand, rather than his request. _What was he supposed to do?_ he wondered, as he rocked her back and forth, assuring her of his presence. _How could he make this better?_

"I'm here," he whispered in her ear, not sure what else to do or say. "I'm here, I've got you."

 _But you weren't here ten minutes ago, were you Jace?_ His conscience reminded him.

The sobs quieted. "Clary, do you want…"

"I want my mom." She interrupted, sounding all of six years old, even to her own ears.

"I'll call her," he told her, withdrawing his phone from his pocket. "Do you want to go to the police?" He asked. "Or the hospital?"

"I don't know," she said in a voice so tiny it couldn't have been hers. "Before I do anything else, I want my mom, so just please…"

He had already dialed Jocelyn's number and handed his phone over to Clary.

"Jace what is it?" A voice answered. "It's just gone midnight."

"Mommy."

Immediately awake, Jocelyn's voice was truly filled with panic then, "What happened?"

"Can you come home?" Clary asked.

"Of course I can, what's happening?"

"There was…Seb's brother…he came and he…and…and Mommy, I'll never be clean again, I…"

She gasped, "I'm on my way. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? Because I can," she declared.

"No, I just want you."

"I'm on my way," the matriarch reiterated. "Let me to talk to Jace quick, before you hang up."

"How is she?" Jocelyn asked.

"Well…not good." He said quietly, looking at the girl who was lying curled up in her bed. "Or…how is she supposed to be? She's not, I don't know, comatose or anything, but she tried to scrub herself with steel wool and one hundred plus degree water so I think that kind of speaks for itself."

"I think that bit's normal actually."

"I don't know, then." He said, completely lost for answers.

"Just stay with her and keep her calm and we'll talk more when I get there."

"But should I like take her to the police station or…"

"No," Jocelyn asserted, though he assumed she was fumbling as much as he was. "You said she's already showered, so at this point there's no reason not to wait until I'm there. Given that Clary's only sixteen, they might need me to agree any way so…yeah." _Not fumbling, then,_ he thought to himself.

"So you just want me to stay with her?" He checked, having planned to do so anyway.

"Yes." Her voice was vehement.

"Always," he swore.

"Good. Now, we'll be there within five hours, so just…."

"I got it Joc. Stay with her. I planned to, so, we're good. Drive safe."

"Be there soon."

Not soon enough, though. No one was there soon enough and no one was there when she had needed them. _He_ hadn't been there when she'd needed him and he'd never forgive himself for it.

But he could be here now. And he would.

Tears were flowing down his own face freely and he was mad at himself. He was supposed to be being strong for Clary.

He was to be her strength.

"I've got you."


	2. Chapter 2

Loud sobs caught Jace's attention and he reached for her. "It's going to be okay, Ris," he whispered to her, before realizing she was still asleep, probably caught in a nightmare. He shook her lightly, "Ris, baby, wake up. Come on, Rissa, wake up. Wake up, baby." She did, sitting up.

"Jace?" She asked, eyes wild.

"Yeah, Ris." He hastened to assure her. "It's me."

After that she came around fairly quickly, a stoic mask slipping into place. "I need a shower." She said, finally. Jace furrowed his eyebrows, but decided not to psychoanalyze, instead promising that he'd be right there if she needed him. "Right here," he'd emphasized squeezing her hand tightly. She nodded once, walking away.

"Where is she?" Jocelyn demanded, walking in just as Clary disappeared to the bathroom.

"Taking another shower." He said, his concern showing through.

"That's totally normal, Jace," she said soothingly, "she feels dirty."

That actually made perfect sense. "Yeah, she told me that earlier. Said she couldn't get clean."

"It's normal," Jocelyn repeated. "And…" she hesitated, "It's normal for you to feel…you know what let me send you to Luke."

"I can't leave Clary." He protested.

"I'll take care of her. This'll affect you as well. Talk to Luke."

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"How's Clary?" Luke immediately asked upon seeing Jace.

"Not great. How is she supposed to be, though?"

Luke took a deep breath, conceding the point. "Amatis—that's my sister—she took ten showers every day for almost a year. I swear I looked away for not even five minutes and she had disappeared. I found her, clothes torn, crying on the ground. She was an adult, of course, and it's not like it was my responsibility but I was _right there_ and I couldn't prevent it. I blamed myself," he snorted dryly, "she blamed herself. Nobody seemed to blame the piece of shit that actually attacked her, though." He sipped a coffee. "It's not your fault, Jace, don't think so. I know you feel guilty and I understand it, but you're _not_. He is. And don't let Clary blame herself either; she'll probably try. She'll wake up screaming," Luke told him, "she'll have panic attacks. She'll need reassurance all the time and sometimes you'll take her hand and she'll flinch away. That's all normal and there's nothing you can do but be there. Sometimes she'll need to be held and sometimes she won't be able to bear being touched and you won't guess right every time. That's just the way of it."

"So you're saying there's no manual that says what to do? My girlfriend has been victimized and traumatized and I just have to wing it?"

"Yeah." Luke confirmed. "That's what I'm saying."

"It's just…I've never met someone who…"

Luke corrected him hesitantly. "Actually…You almost certainly have."

"What?" Jace asked.

"Approximately how many women do you know?"

"Um…all the ones I go to school with, plus Maryse and Izzy. Probably at least fifty."

"Then you know at least ten who either have been or will be before they turn twenty-five." Luke shook his head. "Anyway, patience and love will get the two of you through. Beyond that…"

Jace wasn't sure how to handle that. There was no list of do's and don'ts—though some where pretty fucking obvious—there was no game plan. He couldn't do anything but be there. He felt useless.

"You know Jocelyn's with Clary. If you wanted to go home, get some sleep…" Luke shrugged.

"No," he declined. "I don't want her to think that now that someone else is here I feel like...I want her to know I'm here because I want to be, not because nobody else was available. I want to be here for her. I need her to know that."

"Sleep then? I'll blow up the air mattress, and you can sleep on the floor in Clary's room if you want."

Jace agreed to the terms, heaving himself tiredly up the steps with Luke following behind.

He knew this was his fault. He'd left her. He left her there, completely unprotected. He failed her, horribly, and it wasn't going to happen again. He dropped onto the inflated air mattress, dedicated to at least resting. No sooner had he fallen asleep, though, than he woke to screams. He raised himself up but Jocelyn held out a hand to him, indicating she would handle it. She was not doing so well, Clary couldn't be touched right now and Jocelyn's voice wasn't getting through to her.

"Let me try," Jace insisted softly five or so minutes later, seating himself at the foot of the bed. "Rissa? It's me, it's Jace. Rissa, come back to us, baby. He's not here. You mother is and me, Rissa, that's all."

One word caught Clary's ear. _Rissa._ Only Jace called her Rissa.

"It's okay, Rissa." He continued in the same voice that suggested he might be speaking to a wounded animal.

Rissa meant Jace.

Jace meant safety.

She was safe. She scrambled to her knees, launching herself into his arms. He rocked her back and forth, studiously holding in his own tears and focusing on his love. "I'm right here, baby. And I'm never leaving you."

He swore it.

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Jocelyn took her to the police station who took her statement. She didn't really feel like they were both on her side, though. One of the cops clearly was: _Did he say anything? Did you recognize him?_ But the other, his partner, she assumed, was not taking it seriously at all. Apart from a few defensive injuries and the knife cut—which could have been from much less than a knife, according to him—and the black eye, she wasn't really injured, he pointed out. _What were you wearing? You knew there was a threat but went outside anyways?_ As if she were not the victim; as if she were to blame; as if taking her trash out signaled a desire to be raped; as if stepping onto her own porch constituted consent.

"Listen," the first cop said gently. "I believe you, but you should know even if we're able to arrest him, even if he gets indicted…it's not over for you. You'll have to tell your story to a grand jury and then again to twelve more people and whoever's watching and in front of _him._ And then the trial will be like that." The cop jerked his thumb towards the other man. "They'll try to make it your fault, or otherwise they'll pick at your story until it sounds like you were so scared and so traumatized that you have no idea who it was, despite that you clearly recognized him. If you do pursue this, it will suck horribly. Be prepared for that." His tone was kind but his words harsh, even if they were the truth.

How reassuring.

Clary was insistent upon going to school, even following that. Luke didn't think it was the best idea, Jocelyn didn't think it was the best idea, and Jace was sure it wasn't—was sure that this was going to blow up and end badly.

The first few periods went okay, other than Clary's mild panic when she had to take off her hoodie because she was burning up. Jace had been forced to take her hand, holding it gently. She still folded in on herself, but her breathing became less erratic and the panic attack was avoided.

Lunch was okay, though she insisted on taking it outside, citing that it felt as if everyone knew and were whispering about her. In solidarity, even though only Jace was aware of the situation, Izzy, Simon, Alec and Magnus ate with them.

She knew, logically, that they couldn't know and that even if people did, the five surrounding her—and even Sebastian—would her back, and her front and her sides if need be. It didn't help.

Jace almost though he was wrong—that the day would be okay until they reached Psych of Women, an offshoot of the Psych requirement and a dual credit class which would get them ahead for college.

"Today," the teacher announced, "we will began our unit on Rape Cuture."

Oh. Oh no.

He darted a glance at Clary whose eyes were shut as she focused on breathing normally.

"What _is_ rape culture?" The teacher opened up.

Clary's breath was quicker and shallower and anyone not paying attention would've missed it. Luckily, Jace was paying attention.

"Mr. Wayland?" Starkweather called after nobody answered.

Jace kept one eye on Clary, "It's the encouragement of sexist and chauvinistic behavior as well as a negligent attitude towards sexual assault that results in the objectification and sexualization of women and therefore almost a justification for sexual assault."

"I'm sorry, sir. May I use the restroom?" Clary asked, receiving an acquiescence and shaking her head at Jace when he made to follow.

The teacher gestured for Jace to continue. "I mean, nobody says 'Are you sure you didn't give him your wallet and now you're embarrassed about it?' or 'Well, you parked your Corvette outside your house. Surely you figured someone would steal it?' or 'It was probably a misunderstanding. He probably thought you wanted to get mugged.' Do they?" He had meant it to sound reasonable but it came out passionate and almost personal instead. He figured he was still pissed from the police station.

"No," the teacher acknowledged, looking shrewdly between the golden boy and the door Clary had disappeared through, obviously, to Jace at least, connecting the dots. "An excellent point."

"Uh, sir…"

"Go ahead, Mr. Wayland."

At that he almost ran from his seat out the door, following the sobs that could be heard even that far away. Granted, even if he couldn't hear them, she was in the first place he'd have checked—the bathroom by the nurse's office that nobody used, due to it being so far from classes.

He steeled himself. Watching Clary cry was not his favorite sight. He approached her slowly, calling her Rissa to let her know it was him. So far, it seemed he was the only one that could calm her and though he realized this with no little pride, it was worrisome. He couldn't be with her every second of every day, physically couldn't, no matter how much he would like to. Izzy would need to be filled in and hopefully Clary would come around to Jocelyn's assurances.

Would she do this every day, or each time they had Psych of Women until the end of the unit? Jace would have away games and what if he got seriously ill and couldn't come to school?

What would she do if he couldn't be there?

He doesn't bring any of this up as he wraps his arms around her. He doesn't mention that they'll need to explain to people while he hums a lullaby to her, intermittently whispering that it'll be okay, everything will be okay, it's over now…

But it's _not_ he realizes. It's not over.

And there's no knowing when it will be.


End file.
